


The Rime of the Watcher and the Witch (The Third Man)

by Astarte (Astarte19), Astarte19



Series: The Rime of a Watcher and a Witch [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Crossover, Drama, F/M, Music, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4906507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astarte19/pseuds/Astarte, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astarte19/pseuds/Astarte19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle at Hogwarts Helen, a former history teacher, had lost part of her magical power and is now looking for a new start and a calmer place to live in without it. She leaves England and, with little expectations, heads for Sunnydale, where she meets a British librarian fighting against a very different kind of dark forces.<br/>Contrary to her hope for a quiet and uneventful life that she is so much in need of, and against her intention of not using magic anymore, she finds herself entangled with the group around the slayer and gets involved in some spectacular incidents that would actually raise a brow of most of the wizards.<br/>Giles discovers that the council has not been quite candid with him about everything, Quentin Travers' true loyalty rises only one of the questions after some of the most guarded council property is found on the estate of a Death Eater.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 - New arrival

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Hi there, this is an older fic that I had already posted on fanfiction and Tth. Now after some reviews and re-reads and changes, minor and bigger, I'd like to post it here too, in hope to attract a few more readers and get a bit more comments, critiques, suggestions.  
> I'm not English native speaker, so bear with me.  
> Main storyline may be the relationship between Giles and the OC, yet there's several plotlines along the way. I'm following the Buffy-series, but it's set non-canon three years later than in the show, in order to comply with the HP-timeline, which - timewise - was more important to me. Therefor the story sets off in October 1999 instead of 96. The focus is on Sunnydale and on the Scoobies, it's the background story and some flashbacks that play at Hogwarts.  
> Everything you recognize belongs to Joss Whedon, the creators and writers of Buffy or to JK Rowling, I merely own the OC.

# Chapter 1

## New arrival

“But I was assigned to teach history and music, not arts, sir, I lack the qualification.” Helen McGregor was sitting in the principal’s office at Sunnydale High, it was in the middle of October and she had just arrived to take a position of a teacher here, having left London and all of her acquaintance behind.  


“Yes, well, there probably was some kind of a mistake, but I am sure you can manage. It’s not like you’d be teaching chemistry or physics,” Principal Flutie replied quickly, making clear that her qualifications didn’t really play that vital a role. “Besides music is arts too, and we are lacking arts-teacher since the last one, Ms. Gordon-eh… disappeared,” He murmured the last word as if still in disbelief over the fact.  


“Actually,” the potioneer in Helen wanted to object, “sir, chemistry might be-“  


“I am sorry, Ms. McGregor,” Flutie, however, silenced her with a raised hand. “I have another appointment right now and I don’t have time for this discussion, there’s a lot going on here presently.” He stood, clearly expecting her to leave now. “I suggest you don’t waste your time. Borrow a book from the library or something, you’ll do just fine. Your resumées are very promising, I have all the faith that you will teach arts as good as Ms. Gordon in no time.” He gave her his hand to shake, then led her out of his office.  
In the hall she took a look on her class timetable only to see that she was already ten minutes late for her first history class with the sophomores.  


She entered the classroom, said a short and somewhat uneasy “Hello” and put her things on the desk, before taking a look of her first Sunnydale class. She smiled. “My name is Helen McGregor and I’ll be teaching you history this year. Since I am already late for this lesson – which won’t become a habit I can assure you – I’d suggest we make the rest of it an introduction round...” 

The class went rather well, there had been about twenty students. On her way through the halls in the search of the library where she hoped to find some books on history of arts – as a gesture of a mental exercise – she tried to remember some of the names: There was a George, the small shy boy, who wouldn’t stop drawing doodles over his notes, a Nathalie, who seemed to be a school-hottie, an Alexander Harris, a dark haired bright looking Willow...  


And then there it was. The swing door with the unmistakeable letters “Library” above it. She entered, looking towards the counter on the right, wondering whether there was someone in here. It looked empty. Like always when she was nervous, her hand wandered to the scarf around her neck.  


She cleared her throat and said quietly. “Hello? Is ... anybody here?”

There was a loud bang, several objects must have fallen to the floor, which made her jump and turn left to the source of the noise. There in a ... _cage? what the hell?!_... stood a tall man in a tweed suit holding some rather odd objects in his hand, more of which he had obviously let fall in the surprise of her appearance. She stared at those ... _were those swords?! And a crossbow?!_  


“What-uh ...?” He recovered very quickly, hurriedly put the rest of the things into a metal closet, then posted himself right in front of her. His voice was calm with a slight touch of irritation: “May I help you?”  


“Yes-eh, I-eh… was... looking for a couple of books on history of arts and-eh… was hoping to find them here, since... this... is the... school library.” She said looking around her once more to make sure she had entered the right place. There were bookracks at the back, and to her right an opened glass door saying “Librarian” leading into what looked like a small office room.  


He didn’t say anything but was looking at her as if he wouldn’t entirely understand, his forehead wrinkled a little.  


Helen waited, then made an apologizing grimace: “Oh, I’m sorry, I'm Helen McGregor, a new teacher.”  


“Oh,” his expression lightened up. Though he was aware of the fact that this was a public, or better a school library, opened to anyone, he tended to forget that. It happened seldom enough if ever at all, that a student or anyone for that matter got astray here. He wasn’t used to see other people than the scoobies in the library, least of all strangers. _Englishwomen_... he realised as he caught her voice again:  


“I am supposed to teach arts and wanted to have a look on some-eh… basics.” The man was still looking puzzled so she went forth. “This probably sounds a little odd, the truth is I was told before I accepted the job that I would be teaching history and music, which are my actual subjects, but as I arrived this morning, the principal was kind enough to inform me that it is arts instead,” she said with a trace of sarcasm in her voice. “A-and history that is,” she added as his wrinkling forehead kept making her nervous. “You are the librarian then?”  


“Oh, forgive me. Where are my manners, I mean-uh, yes. Rupert Giles,” he said offering her his hand.  


She took it and smiled. “Pleasure.”  


“So what-uh ... are you looking for? Arts in general or did you have some concrete works in mind?”  


“Eh, yes, both, actually. I thought I’d re-read Jeremy Wendell’s Introduction and perhaps Hartmann’s History of Arts,” she said and blushed a little. “Well, to be honest those are the only books on arts I can remember having read. I thought rereading those might be a good start.”  


Giles walked slowly towards his desk and cleaned his glasses. “Yes, yes. Good-uh... good choice. And we have both of them here.” He motioned in the general direction of the rack. “But I would recommend you the monography by Raiffenstein. It is a wonderful introduction, not too detailed, but very well written.”  


She followed him. “I’ve heard of it, but since the work is over fifty years old I was hoping the other ones would have-eh… refurbished it.”  


“It is old, but by no means obsolete. In fact Wendell draws a great deal of his explanations from Raiffenstein. Those are by far the best part of his book, sadly.”  


He suddenly came to a halt in front of one of the shelves, skimmed over the backs of the books and after a few seconds pulled out the said book and gave it to her, advising her that she would find all of the books dealing with arts in the shelf behind her.  


She thanked him and after he had left her to make her picks she caught herself watching him leave and descend the small staircase and finally disappear in his office. For some inexplicable reason she felt her cheeks getting warm. She quickly shook her head and turned her attention to the books at last. 

“Thank you, you’ll have them back later this week,” she said to him after he had checked out the books, took her shoulder bag, gave him a last smile and turned around only to run into Willow, Xander and Buffy on her leave. She smiled a little flustered at them too, muttered “hello” and finally left, having Giles watching her back.  


“Who was that?” Buffy asked with an annoyed undertone. Like Giles she had begun to consider the library as some kind of a second home, or more accurately like an unwanted slayer’s office where, however, only Giles, Willow, Xander and her spent their time, like a common room for them where they would plan, discuss, doing research on monsters and demons, and where none else was allowed to enter and everyone who did was regarded with the utmost suspicion.  


Willow started to chatter happily: “That’s Ms McGregor, our new history teacher.”  


“We have a new history teacher? What happened to Mr. Watts?” Buffy asked, alarmed that her history teacher Mr. Watts should have needed replacing. Her chain of thoughts was working at a high speed through a scenario where at the end she saw herself sitting at the cemetery with Giles, impatiently playing with her stake, waiting for a newly turned Mr. Watts to rise from his grave after he had been killed horribly by some vampire or other while grading her last written test… _which actually had a certain appeal to it_ …  


“No,” thankfully Willow interrupted her imagination before she could feel ashamed for such thinking, “she’s ours, Xander’s and my new teacher. And she’s quite cool. And also very British,” she added, clearly over-thrilled by the fact she couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. She gave Giles a meaningful look, as if she had uncovered some secret purpose of the two English being here, but wanted to indicate him that it was completely safe with her. Giles merely looked confused.  


„Yeah, seemed like A-Lot-Of-Essays-To-Write-Type to me though” argued Xander. „But I liked the tardiness of her. Would be nice if she could put those ten minutes at the _end_ of the lesson and let us go sooner instead.”  


„Xander!” Willow was outraged at this shocking suggestion. But then, she loved all of her classes. Buffy looked amused at her best friend.  


“Can we concentrate on our vampires here, please?” Giles finally interrupted and the Scoobies once again hit the full research mode.


	2. Chapter 2 - Involuntary Approaches Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Background story is Inca Mummy Girl, though in Buffy in Season 2, I went against the canon and put it in the first year.

#  **Chapter 2**

##  **Involuntary approaches. Part 1**

Three weeks at Sunnydale High and Helen already felt like it had been the right thing after all: having left England, coming here to this completely strange place, teaching American muggle students, living among muggles who went through their lives entirely oblivious of any kind of dark forces or magic. She was beginning to feel well here, kind of homey. The kids were nice enough, at least the majority of them anyway. Right now they were having this exchange of cultures week, so that several foreign students from all over the world were sitting in the classrooms as well, making the classes all the more interesting as some of them brought new input and different perspective on some of the historical events they were discussing. And even the arts class was turning out to be fun. She had to admit, with a lack of modesty, that she was doing great. She hasn't tied any friendships yet, not really being a people's person or much into socializing, but then, _ties are overrated,_ she thought cynically. 

There was the librarian though, who seemed… puzzling, sort of mysterious, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was about him that would make her unable to push him out of her mind for at least an hour every time after she left the library.

It was Friday afternoon, she was once again deepened in such contemplations, marveling about the wrinkles his eyes would make when he had given her a short smile as she had brought back couple of books. She momentarily turned pink and felt briefly embarrassed, and looked around her as if afraid that some of the students running through the halls might have guessed her thoughts. She shrugged to shake it off, telling herself that it’s probably just because he was British as well, _must be some countrymen-solidarity._

She sped up towards her class. When she entered, the sophomores were already seated. „Hello", she smiled at them and proceeded to the door at her left inside the classroom where she shared a small office with another history professor, a stuffy snooty Mr. Watts. She needed to pick her notes and the history book they were about to discuss in class. She opened the door, made one step inside, and then all the students heard was a loud noise as she let fall everything out of her hands, along with her weak scream „No!" She glided to the floor and passed out. Several students got up und hurried over to her, Xander was among the first who reached her and after what he saw inside, he couldn't blame Professor McGregor for having fainted at all. The body of the other history teacher was half sitting half lying on his desk, it looked very dead and had a strange greyish green color; one could see every single vein on it. They had never seen anything like this before, Xander managed to stop Willow before she would come near to see the horrible scene.  
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Next Monday morning Helen left Principal's office - once again – unhappy. She was hoping to get a new office room for herself, since she really couldn't, at least not now, face the old one, where just three days ago she found the dead body of her colleague. However, she had prepared an alternative solution, and headed towards the library.

She found Mr. Giles in the "cage" – not an uncommon scene in the past weeks – sorting some books. He didn't seem to have noticed her. „H-hh", she cleared her throat and he turned around immediately. „Oh, Miss-uh... McGregor, good morning!" He greeted her, and it may have been a mere fancy, but he appeared to be pleased to see her.

„Mr. Giles. Good morning."

„You came to borrow some more pieces," he smiled as he walked towards her, holding a small pile of books in his hands that he had just taken out of the metal cupboard.

Helen smiled back: „No, actually I wanted to ask you something... I have found myself in ah… a somewhat uncomfortable situation... a-and I was wondering, if-ah..." She got nervous as she noticed the interested glance on his face, strangely aware that she got his full attention. Besides, she wasn't really sure how he would react to her request. This was a public school library on one hand, yet it didn't escape her, that at the few times she came in to borrow something, it was either empty or there were just the three kids. Which was actually quite weird now she thought of it... _Focus now,_ she told herself as her mind began to drift away from the task ahead of her.

„I-ah… I don't want to return to my office after what happened there last week and-eh..." Her hand nervously grabbed her scarf as she braced herself for the actual question.

„Oh, yes, that was terrible,” Giles interrupted her, expressing polite concern: “Are you all right? I heard that you had found the body, that must have been an-uh… unpleasant… experience."

„Yes, thanks, I'm fine. Embarrassed mostly." She smiled tensely and for some reason felt the need to avoid the intense look of his hazel eyes for a second. "It was certainly nothing I'd care to see again. Ever..." He nodded sympathetically. "As-ah… I was saying, I don't really have a place to work right now, since principal Flutie refused to offer me another room. I can't blame him, I guess there are no more rooms available. He offered me though to switch with someone, but-ah... as it happens I don't really know anybody here well enough to ask, if they would like to move into an office where a collegue was killed last week..."

He could hear the sarcasm in her voice.

„Well, to come to the point, I was hoping, that... maybe ...but only if you wouldn't object of course – a-and I will totally understand if you will, it would mean me spending here most of my afternoons, and this is your library and your office is in here and it is utterly up to you, and if you feel like– " She was starting to babble again, when he raised his hand slowly to stop her and smiled again.

„Of course you can work here. I couldn't possibly object, even if I wanted to,” he said, then hurried to clarify that he didn’t: “You’re very welcome. This is after all a school library and you are entitled to use it whenever you like and to spend here as much time as you wish.”

„I know." She replied slowly. „I noticed, however", she paused, not knowing how to put it, „that ... you... well, I just wanted to make sure, that-ah… I won't be in the way. Of. Something."

For a second he looked confused but then he realized she must have meant the Scoobie meetings that she kept coming upon in the past few weeks, always causing the four of them to fall into the most conspicuous silence. „Oh, you are referring to our ... hobby meetings in here." He had to think fast. His first impulse when she asked him the favour was to help her. He liked her. Well, _liked_ was perhaps an overstatement, he barely knew her after all, but he sort of ... well... _liked_ her. _Could be a British thing_ , he told himself. In fact, because of all his _liking_ he hadn't taken into consideration what her presence in the library would mean for the slayer and the slayerettes and what possible difficulties it might cause them during their research.

He gave a very unconvincing smile and said: „It's-uh… we have a club, a-a hobby... archaeology... club.” He stammered and once more thanked Willow in his thoughts for having invented that excuse. „But I am sure we will all find a way to ... have our meetings without disturbing you...” He tried to sound as casual and innocent as possible when he suggested: „Perhaps if you could show me your timetable I would rearrange our ... archaeology ... meetings according to it."  


She felt a little awkward at this request, though it made sense. He could schedule his "club" during her late classes, but she still sensed his slight discomfort and was sure that this „archaeology club” was probably not quite the whole truth. Yet, Helen was grateful he offered her a working space here and what other things he was doing in his library wasn't exactly any of her business. She pulled the small piece of paper out of her bag, on which all of her classes were listed, and handed it to him. „Of course. Here."

He took it and quickly skimmed through it. Then he looked at her again as if expecting her to say something else. He couldn't tell whether or not she had believed the archaeology-story, and it made him nervous. He wouldn’t blame her if she hadn’t, even to him the whole thing sounded pretty lame. He wasn’t a very good liar after all. Well, not of late. 

She remained silent and he felt he had to say something to distract any possible thoughts she might be having about the white lie he had offered: „You want to start right away I suppose? You're welcome to use my office if you like. It's not very large but there is a free desk in there. Or you can store your things there if you want." He pointed towards the glass door on the right side, behind the library-counter. Almost at the same time as he said it he thought that this was the most pathetic attempt in history: it was too obvious that he was trying to conceal something, for under normal circumstances he would never be this generous towards an almost complete stranger.

„Well thank you, that's very kind of you" Helen said in a surprise. „I wouldn't want to disturb you though. But I'll probably come back to the offer and store some my stuff there afterwards, if it’s really alright with you. Just a few books and my laptop so that I don’t have to carry them home and back every day.”

„Of course.” Again the peculiar smile on his face. _So beautiful,_ she thought. He bowed slightly and as he wanted to go past her they almost bumped into each other when she was about to take the same way. Noticing the mistake they both changed the direction which led to another almost-collision and a very awkward moment. They smiled embarrassed and Giles finally laid his free hand on her shoulder and politely motioned her to pass.

_Dear Lord, what have I just got myself into..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please feel free to comment.


	3. Chapter 3 - Involuntary Approaches Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Background story is BtVS 1.6 "The Pack"

# Chapter 3

## Involuntary Approaches. Part 2

 

The week progressed – to Giles’ relief – without any major trouble. He had prepared Buffy and the others to the new „situation” in the library. They nagged about it, naturally, and Willow gave him again that meaningful look from the day she had announced that Ms. McGregor was British. Yet its meaning he again seemed to have missed.  
They accepted that they would have to adjust their research a little, which was all the easier as it appeared that peace had returned to Sunnydale after they destroyed the Incan Princess. Of course Giles knew only too well that this calm demon-less period was delusive as he was wondering what kind of a monster they’d have to face next. 

So it happened that during that week Helen and the Scoobies came across each other only few times in the library and mostly only for a short while: They used to pop in to say hello to Giles, to inquire whether he had anything new for them to work at – _archaeology-wise_ , as they always hurried to accentuate when they thought she might hear them; and when he hadn’t, they either left very quickly as in Buffy’s and Xander’s case or – in Willow’s case – merely stayed to help him with some new arrivals.

Helen liked working there, the atmosphere, the smell of the old books, the peace and most of all – the silence. Every time she entered the library, stepping in out of and leaving the loud crowded bustling school corridor behind, it felt like acceding another world, like climbing through the wardrobe into the kingdom of Narnia. Even more it reminded her of the Room of requirement for some reason, where she once used to hide spending her afternoons with playing a piano or just listening to Beethoven's Egmont and Brahms' Hungarian Dances in full blast, and conducting the imaginary orchestra on an empty stage.  
The library too appeared to have a certain „magic” around it, almost as if no one else could see it or find it. Or enter it, which was true for no one else, neither a student nor a teacher, except for the three kids, really ever seemed to come here. 

It was late Friday afternoon, Helen, sitting at one of the front wooden tables, finished writing her notes for the day and was about to go pack her things, which – having accepted Giles' offer – she kept stored on the free desk in his office. She moved towards the room with loud footsteps and cleared her throat to alarm him of her coming in. And indeed, almost immediately she heard a frantic flutter of paper pages, slamming of heavy book volumes, followed by a loud clinking – he obviously overturned his teacup - and a silent murmur „Oh bloody...” Helen smiled to herself, since she had already witnessed a similar performance yesterday; and paused in front of the door offering him couple of more seconds. Only then she entered and found him, not really surprised, cleaning the mess his spilt tea had left on his notes. She didn’t want to stare at them, she was sure that, as the rest of the things he was trying to clean away before she had come in, his notes too were of some delicacy and he wouldn’t want her to see them. But she couldn’t help noticing his handsome old-fashioned handwriting, and only on the second sight realized that his notes weren’t in English anyway. 

He gave her a short look and then continued to dry the pages with a tissue. „I-uh... I had a little accident here.” 

Helen repressed another smile, laid her books on the other desk and tried to put an earnest face. „May I help somehow?” She pulled another handkerchied out of her pocket, the one he was using over and over was already soppy. 

He made no objections so Helen helped him to dry the rest of the pages. The damage didn’t seem to be very great. Luckily he apparently managed to put away all the valuable secret volumes before the accident happened, she thought. Her curiosity was rising gradually as to what matters he might actually be pursuing. But the last thing she wanted was to be inquisitive. _People do have the right to have and keep secrets._ She was very well aware of that as much as she would ask everyone to accord that same right to herself. To be honest, that was also one of the reasons why she hasn't been much into socialising nor eager to make new friends here to whom she would have to explain... Therefore she remained cautious in her contacts with colleagues or others and minded to keep her reserved attitude towards them and as low a profile as possible.

„Thank you.” He said a bit embarrassed as they had finished and he had spread the wet but otherwise undamaged sheets on her desk, where she in the meantime started collecting her stuff she wanted to take home over night.

He stood next to her, his hands in his pockets, once again a little nervous as he still felt so caught in the act. He tried a conversation. „So... how-uh... was your week? Did you-uh... like… working here?” He closed his eyes for a moment, sure of the silliness of his question. 

She didn’t seem to notice it though.

„Thank you, yes, it was great.” _Great?! Seriously?! What kind of an answer is that?!_ But it was the first thing that came into her mind, she didn’t really know why. It WAS – great. As she had been contemplating before – it was a nice hall, it was surprisingly well armed when it came to volumes on history and arts that she needed for her own research, it was comfortable, quiet, cosy... _very well built, mysterious and in a very appealing way – I'd even go with sexy, his smile has to have melting powers and when he speaks it is what velvet would sound like if it had a voice of its own_ she was sure... _Focus!!_

She tried again: „It is a great place to work in. The library.” _Yeah. That was MUCH better,_ said her inner voice laughing, _good job!_ Yet poor as this statement might have been it was awarded with another knee-breaking smile from his face. They both seemed to realize their mutual nervousness and laughed together. Then she continued in a more relaxed tone. „And because it is such a great place to work in, I was wondering if it’s possible to use the library at weekends.” She pointed at the large pile of books at her desk for explanation. 

The request took him by surprise, though not an unpleasant one. After all, he too used to spend most of his weekends here as well, especially when he was researching some new kinds of evil.

„Of course. I myself will be here too.” 

„Great. When do you usually arrive?”

„I shall be here at eight.”

She re-packed her pile and put only two of the books back in her bag. „Great then. I certainly won’t come before nine.” She assured him, knowing she would probably sleep long on a Saturday morning. She grabbed her car-keys, took her bag and went to the door where she turned around once more to say goodbye. 

„Have a nice evening. And careful with the tea,” she said impishly. “Till tomorrow then.”

He laughed a little. „Yes. Good night.” And she left. 

Next Saturday morning Giles was sitting in his office already from seven a.m. and reading some very old manuscript on a vampire named Castor, and had long forgotten the world around him. At half past ten Helen arrived and found him scribbling some notes about his reading. „Good morning,” she greeted in a loud, cheerful voice that suddenly cut the absolute silence of his office.

He almost jumped. 

She laughed. „I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” And said to herself: _I should consider swapping my scarf for a cowbell._

He laughed nervously. „It’s probably good that I-uh... already had-uh... my tea this morning.”

„I’ll just... take my books and leave you work then.” She took a couple of the books from her pile along with her laptop – towards which Giles directed a very distrustful look – and went to do her own work at the main table in the more spacious library hall. This arrangement had proven to be suiting them both: Giles would keep at least a certain degree of privacy during his research, while she, always tending to take more and more space while working, could spread her stuff all across the large table.

She only paused in her work several hours later when her stomach announced itself and with a loud growling noise asked to be refilled. She closed the book on Reformation she had been reading and got up. This time she decided not to go into his office to prevent further accidents. Instead she called in loud voice:  
„Mr. Giles?”

„... Yes?” She heard him standing up from his desk and seconds later he appeared in the door. “You need anything?”

„No. I was just going to have a lunch somewhere and wanted to ask, if there’s anything I could bring for you?”

„Oh, that’s... very thoughtful, thank you. But I’ve-uh... already eaten.” She looked a little surprised.

„A cucumber-sandwich,” he said, suddenly feeling very stupid. “I brought it with me. I-uh... ate an hour ago.”

„Oh.” She nodded her head. „Great... Then... I’ll be going. See you later.” She put on her coat and was about to leave, but turned around once more and asked to make sure: „You _are_ going to be here, right?”

Giles rose his eyebrows and hurried to say „Yes, yes.”

The following Sunday and the next week passed in very much the same way, with both of them working in the library, not talking, except say the obligatory „hello” and „good night” to each other, occasionally accompanied by a cautious smile.

It wasn’t before next Sunday that they exchanged more than polite greetings. After noon Helen went for lunch and – having watched one of the American cop-shows on TV the previous night – decided to pick up some doughnuts on her way back as a gesture of appreciation towards the culture of her new homeland. She returned to the library as Giles was sorting out some books on the counter. 

She raised the large paper-bag and said: „I brought-eh... doughnuts. Would you like some?” Giles paused for a moment as she came to stand in front of the counter, waiting for a reply. 

He seemed to be hesitating for a moment, before raising his brows and saying: „I think, I could allow myself a little break... Would you like some tea? I’ve just made a fresh pot.”

„That would be nice.” Giles went to his office to get the teacups as Helen took off her coat and placed the doughnuts bag on the table next to her books. He came back, with two cups of tea in his hands and two plates clamped under his arm. She helped him by taking the cups from him and putting them on the table, then packed out the still warm doughnuts. They set down and remained silent for a while. 

Only after a minute or two Helen wondered if this was such a good idea. When she out of her good spirit made the offer, she didn’t think as far as to the point where they would actually sit down together and have to talk, have an _actual_ conversation. It was beginning to get awkward, when they both at the same time said: „So...” and had to laugh once again. Then Giles bowed his head slightly: „You first.” 

„Thanks, but... there really was no deep thought...” She had lost what she was about to say and was now trying too hard to come up with some innocent topic that would keep them both far away from any unpleasant or sensitive questions. Finally he interrupted her hard thinking.

„Are you-uhm... have you settled in well here at the school?... I mean despite that death of Mr. Watts?” He regretted almost immediately that he mentioned this. „I’m sorry. How very insensitive of me...” But Helen didn’t seem to be upset. 

„Not at all. And thank you, I’d say I have settled rather well. I mean, apart from that. Of which I do hope it was a singular and very rare, not at all common incident that won’t occur again.” _Merlin, I’ve certainly seen enough deaths for a lifetime,_ she thought.

At this point Giles gave her an absent and forced smile. But he couldn’t tell her that unfortunately this being Sunnydale and all, an incident like that was pretty much the common thing and that there would very likely be more of the kind. And all of a sudden he felt a distant notion of discomfort thinking about this – about her getting into a situation like that again. It was almost as if he was... 

“... worried, _really worried_ that it might go epically amiss, but... actually, I think I've been doing surprisingly well so far,” she was still talking and it took him a moment to realize she was referring to her arts class.

“Yes-uh... I remember you were quite concerned about teaching the arts,” he said.

“Well, thanks to the books you recommended me, I learned the ropes very fast,” she said blushing slightly, “a-and I had some basics, I merely needed to deepen some of it. And in a couple of classes I simply decided to begin with history of music, for that’s what I should have been teaching... And the students are quite nice... There are exceptions, of course, like everywhere else, but the majority of them are very assiduous, hard working, not so unlike at...” She almost added _at Hogwarts_ and came to an abrupt pause. 

As he raised his eyes curiously, she said hurriedly: „... my previous school.” He nodded in understanding.

„What about you? Have you been long here, in Sunnydale?” She took her plate with a doughnut and so made clear that it was now his turn to talk and hers to eat and listen.

„Yes... Well, not too long. Actually not much longer than you. I arrived at the beginning of this school year.” 

It was obvious that he wouldn’t say more on the matter of why he came to be here, how a man of his knowledge and intellectual qualities ended up being a high school librarian in a small Californian town.

„It’s a very good collection you’ve got here.” She said after a moment of silence, pointing at the bookracks. „I mean, it’s certainly an admirable size, especially for a mug-... for ah-american-eh... school library.” That was a cheap shot, she admitted, but it would give her a much harder time to explain what _a muggle_ was, than to feel embarrassed for having just insulted their host country.

„Yes, it’s not bad. Though I must say I brought many of the history-related volumes myself.” Could she hear just the slightest sign of pride in his tone? 

„Oh? Is that so?”

„Yes.” Yet again he wasn’t about to give away any more. „But, as you have probably noticed yourself in the last few weeks, there aren’t many here who would appreciate it. Hardly anyone ever comes here and when that rare case occurs that students find their way here, because they have to prepare some homework or an essay, they mostly can’t get out of here fast enough... But, I am not complaining. In fact that was one of the reasons I took this job, because it promised to be quite solitary, and calm, without too much interaction with the students.” Helen couldn’t help but wonder what the other reasons might have been.

So they ate in silence and when they finished they each returned back to their work. At eight in the evening Helen decided to call it a night, said her usual good bye and left. 

The next week began very promising. First a new teacher for history arrived, an elderly, somewhat peculiar Mr. Pescoe. Then another colleague of Helen’s, the English teacher Mrs. Jennings, who appeared to be sympathetic towards Helen’s situation, finally suggested to her fellow english-teacher to switch their classrooms and attached offices, so that by the middle of the week Helen found herself in a new classroom, sharing a working place there with Mr. Pescoe. Mr. Pescoe, however, seemed to have cultivated during his clearly long teaching career a number of rather annoying working habits, such as humming or whistling or sudden outbursts of enthusiasm, when he came across an interesting passage in his readings.

On the Wednesday afternoon for example, they were both sitting in their common office, preparing their lessons in silence, when out of nothing he cried out: „A-ha! There!” Helen got the scare of her life. This was followed by several as loud and as unexpected _I knew it!_ s and _Of course!_ s, so that by the end of the day Helen was having serious doubts whether this switch really was an improvement to her previous office-less ( _yet Giles-y_ ) situation.  
She had already told Giles the day before, that she wouldn’t be spooking in the library that much anymore and that she got a new room. It probably was just a fancy of her, but she thought she saw a faint disappointment on his face. 

It was on Friday again, that one bad news followed another. First the mascot of the school, a small pig that Principal Flutie bought for their squad, had been eaten by someone. But the most awful thing happened in the afternoon, when all teachers were summoned and told that Principal Flutie died after an attack of wild dogs that apparently accessed his office through the window. They were all given the warning to keep the windows shut at all times and were dismissed. With very mixed feelings Helen returned along with Mr. Pescoe to their classroom, where they talked for a while. He was about to stay and work in their office, she needed to prepare an exam for next Monday herself, but decided to work in the classroom instead of the office, where his constant outcries would distract or scare her every few minutes. However, she took great care that he wouldn’t think she was working outside because of him. Some of his ways may have been annoying, yet she came to like him in a way and respect him, for apart from his vices he had some endearing qualities as well, and on the few occasions where they had the chance and time to talk he proved to be an excellent dialogue partner on any historical topic. He possessed the rare combination of disposing over a vast knowledge and competence when talking about his subject, yet without conveying in others the impression of superiority or arrogance. 

At six in the evening Mr. Pescoe left for home and Helen stayed alone. She had a hard time to concentrate, besides, she had a strange queasy feeling that something was up. Her hand once again ran subconsciously to the pocket of her trousers where she wore her wand. She didn’t have much use for it after what had happened, but she used to wear it anyway. In a way it belonged to her and she belonged to it, no matter what she had done before. She and that nine and a half inches long, mahogany stick, with an unusual core of powdered dragon scales and a unicorn hair were closely connected. Inseparable.

She wasn’t half finished with her work when short after seven she remembered she wanted to look for a book about the War on Devolution in the library to borrow for the weekend. Only too glad to have an excuse to leave the work her mind wasn’t in at all, she got up and headed towards the library. The school was already empty and a spooky silence reigned in the hallways. As she was approaching, she heard voices. She recognized Willow’s talking to someone. When she entered, to her utter shock she noticed that Xander was locked in the cage, shouting at his friend to let him out, while Willow turned her back at him and walked to her computer, trying to ignore him.

„Willow! What is going on?” Helen asked. Before Willow could give an answer, there was a loud bang and someone broke a window from outside of the library. Behind its broken glass Helen recognized the face of another student of hers, a very unpleasant boy, but she could barely have a better look, when a second window broke and a girl, with disturbing, almost beastly features was already climbing in. 

Willow grabbed her teacher’s hand and dragged her behind herself, running out of the library hall. They ran through half of the school but they could hear fast approaching footsteps and loud, animal-like breathing behind them, when Willow in panic finally pushed Helen into an empty classroom. They locked the door and tried to move some tables in front of it. Obviously - it was no time for questions. 

But the person or group outside was too strong. They were banging on the door and it was only a matter of moments when they would force their way into the classroom. Willow and Helen hid under a table.

„What do they want?” Helen whispered. 

Willow was trying to suppress the panic in her voice: „Without exaggeration? I’d say, they’ve probably digested the principal and now they’re looking for dinner.”

Helen had no time to comprehend this very disturbing answer. After a loud crash they heard at least two persons entering the room. 

Helen felt she had no choice. She took her wand out of her pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't be shy and comment ;) I can take it. I'd rather get a bad review than none ;)


	4. Chapter 4 - Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen and Giles finally get to know each other's secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers, so sorry for taking this long, a lot of things were happening, but I sincerely hope to post more often from now on.  
> Should you get really hooked, you can follow up the story on fanfiction.net; here I am taking my time and re-writing the chapters in hope to make it a bit better, more consistent and logical and to correct some storyline issues I've had with this story.

Chapter 4 

Revelations

 

Willow stared at the wand in Helen’s hand, but said nothing. Then someone jumped on the table under which they were hiding, and a voice sang: „Wii-lloow? Wheere could you poss-sibly bee?” 

Helen carefully crawled from underneath the table and aimed her wand at the boy: _„Stupefy!”_ The wand gave a blue spark, but the “target” remained unharmed and looked now with a certain curiosity down at Helen. She got up and tried again, now aiming it at Xander, who was standing in the door. Again nothing happened. Panic started to take hold of her. She hasn’t been expecting much, but surely, she had hoped that she would manage at least a simple stunning spell! Xander was walking towards them and to their horror they heard more approaching footsteps and growling coming from the hallway. In her desperation Helen aimed her wand at the ceiling lamp above Xander’s head and tried to cast a spell. It worked. The lamp crashed down and knocked him out in about the same time as Buffy and Giles ran into the room. Buffy quickly took care of the other hyena boy behind them, leaving Helen in a complete amazement of her unusual strength. After a moment of surprise of seeing the new teacher there, Buffy told them to leave and get to the zoo while she would take care of the pack.  


„Right, let’s go!” cried Willow and ran out, followed by Giles and Helen. They were about to leave the school building when Helen had to stop. The effects of the few spells she had cast were already beginning to announce themselves. She felt tired, worn out. Giles and Willow turned back at her.  


„What- is- going on here?” She asked panting a bit and pressing a hand onto her chest. Giles slowed a little, but didn’t stop. „We need to get to the zoo. I-uh ... I’ll have to explain later. I’m sorry! There’s my car! We must get there before Buffy and the others!”  


So Helen moved again and soon they reached Giles’ car. They all got in, Helen on the front seat next to Giles, Willow at the back.  


She decided to wait for them to start an explanation and remained silent. So did Giles. He took a look at the both of them, searching for any traces of wounds or injuries. „Are you both all right?” He asked while starting the engine. They both just nodded, Willow kept looking nervously at the school.  


Helen gave him an inquisitive look, but he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road.  


He didn’t know how to start. How to tell a person who had no idea of a slayer, a watcher, probably never heard of demons and surely didn’t believe in vampires and their alikes, that there were five kids outside, being possessed by the spirit of hyenas?! And most of all, how was he supposed to explain any of that without making a complete fool of himself? _She’ll think I'm insane..._  


„All right,” he murmured more to himself, trying to gather some courage. „Eh—it will probably sound-uh... a little-uh... fantastic ... to you, you-you’re likely not to believe any of it-“  


„Believe me, Giles, she is. Just tell her.” Willow interrupted him in an impatient and urging voice, and Helen noticed her rolling her eyes in the mirror.  


Giles frowned his forehead a little at this remark and looked at Helen for a second, before returning his glance back to the road.  


„Ehm... the children-uh... the... the-uh....”, he started.  


„Xander’s been possessed by a hyena.” Willow interrupted him in exasperation.  


Helen furrowed her eyebrows and turned around to look at the girl. „What?!”  


Willow repeated: „Xander and the others, they’ve been possessed by the spirits of hyenas they met at the zoo this week. It’s called....”  


„An actual transpossession?!” Helen asked, clearly amazed. Giles looked at her, unable to hide his astonishment. „Ho-how..? Why...?”  


„I’ve heard of it. Predatory animals, primals, wanting to get back to the pure animal state... It had always sounded to me like a misinterpreted Rousseau-esque _back-to-nature_ fairy tale though.” She said.  


„No fairy tale here, trust me”, said Willow, while Giles was still unable to draft a sentence.  


„How did it happen? Or perhaps more importantly - how do you intend to reverse it?”  


„Giles!” Willow addressed him in an urgent voice as he still seemed to be speechless. „What did you find out at the zoo? Can it be done?”  


„Uh, yes, yes.” He threw one more cautious look at Helen, as if wanting to make sure that she really wouldn’t find him a nutcase, although she apparently knew and understood more than they had thought. „Buffy and I-uh... talked to the zookeeper and he also believed it is possible. We need to get them back to the hyenas’ compound. There we must set a... a ritual before they arrive so that the-uh... spirits will be driven out of them and back into the hyenas.”  


„Sounds easy,” said Willow in a high voice. „What should we do?” She asked just as they reached the zoo and Giles parked his car in front of the entrance. They all got out and hurried to the hyena-house.  


There Giles told them to stay outside, while he was about to go in and check on the zookeeper. They should warn him as soon as they would hear Buffy and the others approaching.  


Helen, however, couldn’t stay still. She didn’t know why she felt the urge to follow the librarian, although she knew it wasn’t right to let Willow standing alone outside. But she couldn’t help it. She suddenly turned on the spot and murmured to Willow: „I am going to check on them. Wait here.” And she disappeared in the entrance of the hyena house.  


Approaching the compound she heard Giles saying: „How terribly frustrating for you, that a bunch of schoolchildren could accomplish what you could not.”  


As she was almost with them, she heard the other man, obviously the zookeeper replying: „It bothered me. But the power will be mine.”  


Helen came forward with a nonplussed expression on her face: „What...?”  


„Run! It’s a trap!” Giles shouted at her, but it was too late. The zookeeper, apparently very well prepared for the ritual, with an actual masai-elder-costume, hit Giles with a long stick he was holding in one hand, and before Helen could react or even take out her wand, she too was knocked unconscious.  


When she woke up, Giles was kneeling above her: „Are you alright?” She didn’t answer, but took a look of her surroundings, which wasn’t easy since they were drowned in almost total darkness, inside of what seemed to be a small closet. Giles helped her to get up. „We need to get out!”  


Helen thought that that was an unnecessary remark. They started touching the walls and looking for a door, and indeed seconds later Giles found a doorknob. But, not that it really surprised either of them, the door was locked. He started to pound against it, but it was solid. For the second time that evening Helen took her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at where she assumed the door would be. She laid her free hand softly at Giles’ arm, he was trying to beat the door open. „Let me.”  


Giles turned around towards her in a little surprise, which she couldn’t see because of the darkness surrounding them, but he stepped back a little.  


„Alohomora” was the next thing he heard and then Helen opened the door. „How...?” He muttered in awe, but she was already storming out of the closet.  


They both came running into the hyena-compound, where Xander was holding Willow, while Buffy was talking at them. Judging by their expressions, it was all over.  


„Did we miss anything?” Giles asked.  


„Not really.” Buffy answered.  


„What happened?” Helen demanded to know, so Buffy told them about how the zookeeper almost slit Willow’s throat, how the hyena spirits had left the five teenagers just in time, and at last about the ugly end of the not so innocent zookeeper.  


„Apparently we missed something too,” said Willow out of nothing and looked meaningfully at Helen. So did Giles, in expectation of hearing some explanations on her part. Buffy and Xander looked at each other, not having the slightest idea, what was going on.  


Helen understood, but shook her head and took a step towards the exit. „Not now.” She was feeling dizzy already and had to take a halt at the wall. „On Monday,” she merely said in a weakened voice, looked at them apologetically once more saying. „I need to ... get home now.”  


Giles came closer to her, unsure what to do or what to say. „Do you want someone to come with you? Will you be alright? You seem a little...”  


„No, it’s fine.” She shook her head vehemently and took a step away from him. “Have a nice evening.” And off she ran. In front of the hyena house, she sighed. _I am so going to regret this in the morning_.... she thought as she turned on the spot and disapparated back into her house.

 

Buffy and Xander looked from Willow to Giles and back. „Are you planning on telling us anytime soon?”  


All four of them walked slowly out of the zoo, while Willow was telling them, what happened in the classroom, how the history teacher took out a small wooden stick, how Willow thought at first that it was a vampire stake, and how Helen had made it sparkle several times and pointed it at the ceiling lamp with the amazing effect of making it fall at Xander’s head.  


„So it’s actually her fault my head feels like a sack of moving--?!”  


„She used a wand?” Giles asked Willow incredulously. _It couldn’t be_... But of course, he thought, that’s what she must have used to open the door of that closet before as well, but in the darkness he couldn’t see it, he only heard her casting the spell. But... _could it really be..._  


„I’ll talk to her on Monday”, he interrupted the ongoing confused discussion between Buffy, Xander and Willow. „There is no point in guessing here.” Buffy looked at him as if she wanted to object.  


„She didn’t do any harm. She was trying to protect us,” Willow said to reassure them and they all dropped the subject. Until they talked to her, there really was no point in making any hasty assumptions.  


So Giles drove them all home. On his drive back to his own apartment his mind kept revolving around the young history teacher. Or how young was she? Where did she come from? Why was she there? Away from England and in Sunnydale of all places? And the most intriguing question: Who or what was she? He knew nothing about her, but what she looked like. She might have been around 30, hardly any older though, wasn’t tall, about Buffy’s height, and slim, which made her look even more tiny; had brown eyes and light brown hair that she wore mostly tied at the back of her head. She had very polite, gentle and kind manners, almost shy, as if she was in constant and anxious worry not to disturb anyone with her existence, wasn’t talking much, always appeared to be preparing and weighing every single word before she spoke it out loud. Yet she was always friendly when talking to him, she usually played with her scarf – an accessoire she seemed to have wrapped around her neck at all times – especially when she was nervous. Giles smiled unconsciously at the image of her standing in his office back when she had come to tell him that she got a new classroom: During those few minutes they talked, her fingers hadn’t stopped playing with the dark green scarf for a moment. He decided to go and talk to her on Monday right after her classes – he still knew her timetable by heart.

Yet Helen didn’t show at school on Monday, she had to call in and asked the principal to be excused for the day due to being unwell: The disapparition had cost her her last sources of energy, she had barely made it to bed on Friday night and her state didn’t improve much by the next morning. Her whole circulation was completely messed up and her nose was in an on/off-bleeding mode during the whole weekend, so that when on Monday morning she regained enough focus to look at her reflection in the mirror, it was clear to her that she couldn’t face her students like this, with huge dark circles under her eyes, pale as death and still barely keeping her balance, not to mention that she was hardly capable of teaching.

It was Willow who told Giles about Ms. McGregor being absent that Monday.  


„Oh? She didn’t come?” He looked up from his book in surprise.  


„Nope. Called herself ill this morning.” Willow answered.  


„Well, when will she be back?”  


„I don’t know. She’s only been put on substitute for today, so I am guessing tomorrow she should show.”  


„Hm,” Giles just nodded and sank back into his thoughts. 

And indeed the next day Helen managed – she left an hour earlier than usually to avoid the masses in front of the school – to get out of her house, into her car and somehow into her classroom, though she thought, she still looked like a walking death. Somehow the day passed, and it was early afternoon. She stayed in her classroom, working at the teacher’s desk – Mr. Pescoe was working in their office and occasionally she could hear his joyful – or indignant and outraged – cries through the door, depending whether or not he agreed with the thesis of the writer he was currently reading. She was about to work for an hour or two, to prepare her classes for the next day, then she wanted to – well, she didn’t really want to, but she felt she should – go to the library and finally get and offer some explanations that were in place after last week’s events.  


She was just writing down some notes when she heard a knock on the opened door. She raised her eyes and saw Giles standing in the door. Her heart jumped for a second. Then she smiled at him.  


He took it as an invitation and entered. „Hello,” he said, as he walked slowly towards her, keeping his hands in his pockets - as he often did, when he felt a little insecure or was trying to remain calm – and his eyes on his shoes, after he gave her a quick look.  


„Hello,” she replied.  


He came closer to her desk and she felt her heartbeat getting faster. It’s been long since the last time that happened to her.  


„I thought I’d find you in your new office,” he said, expressing a mild surprise, and nodded with his head towards the door which led to her and Mr. Pescoe’s office. „Is it not to your liking?”  


„Oh, right,” she shook her head. „Ehm, no... I mean - it’s... it’s a great room. It’s just,” she lowered her voice, “it turned out that my new colleague has rather, well, let’s say he has some habits that require a certain-ah- disposition to... bear them.” She felt a little uncomfortable talking bad about Mr. Pescoe.  


„Oh?” Giles said with raised eyebrows. In that precise moment a half loud, yet well audible cry from behind the office door could be heard: _„That was the Spanish, you ditsy idiot!”_  


They both, Helen and Giles looked towards the door.  


„Oh.” Now Giles understood. Helen gave an apologetic smile.  


„It’s good you’re here. You saved me the journey to the library,” she said, but remained sitting at her desk and didn’t stand up. Giles came yet closer and noticed only now, how dreadful she looked. She must have been really ill, he thought.  


„Yes... We-uh... perhaps need to talk.”  


„Yes.”  


Silence.  


„Seems like we both have kept some rather-uh... momentous-uh secrets,” he said, looking at the floor.  


Helen nodded. _This is so hard_ , she wished it would be over already. „Who is to start?” She finally asked.  


Now he raised his glance from the floor and looked her into her eyes with eager interest. „Who are you? ... Are you a witch?”  


Helen shrugged a little at this straightforward question. In a very hesitant tone she said „Yes.”  


Giles nodded slowly, it didn’t surprise him really, yet...  


„How...? Where..? Where did you learn all this? How did you-uh... become a witch?” He asked, his eyebrows frowned, but his expression was neither unfriendly nor wary. Clearly he was just very curious and eager to know.  


„I was... born like this,” Helen replied, staring at the notes on her desk in front of her. „My parents were wizards, both of my older brothers as well, so the chances were pretty high, that I too would inherit their... magical blood.” She said it in an undertone that made clear how much she disliked the phrase.  


Giles looked at her very puzzled. From all he knew magical skills weren’t hereditary, at least not as something engraved in someone’s genes. It didn’t make any sense to him. He himself was acquainted with a few who had magical powers, not the wand magic, but magic all the same. Yet they acquired it through tedious studies of the occults, he had never heard of anyone who would pass those powers to their children through _blood_ , the enthusiasm maybe, the inclination – sure, but not the skill itself.  


She noticed his blank gaze so she continued explaining. „I was taught at a – or _the_ – Black Forest Wizarding Academy, in Germany, and then after the recommendation of one of my teachers I spent one more year at Hogwarts. That’s the....”  


„Hogwarts?!” Now Giles’ head jumped up and he looked at her first in disbelief, then as if a sudden comprehension hit him. „You said Hogwarts?! I’ve heard the name, of a school for witches and warlocks...,” he said and Helen observed dreamy sparkles in his eyes.  


„That’s... wizards. They’re really delicate about that,” she smiled, but wondered at the same time where he could have picked the name before. „How exactly is that – “  


„I always thought it was a myth!” Giles continued in an astounded voice, finding it harder and harder to hide his excitement. „A school where they learn magics with wands... Willow-uh... told me you had used a wand..... You are an actual, a real witch then?”  


He shook his head slightly in amazement, then for a moment they both remained silent, merely staring at each other, while she was offering him time to absorb everything and at the same time waiting for him to fill her gaps and explain a few things himself. His awed and almost admiring gaze was making her uncomfortable and she averted her eyes eventually. As if he suddenly realized the awkwardness of his stare he hurried to say: „I’m sorry, you must wonder...” For a second he examined her again, pondering over how much he should tell her. He still didn’t know, why she was here, what her agenda was, what her goals. Yet something about her - he couldn’t describe it - made him trust her. He was sure that she wasn’t here for an evil cause.  


„It’s a.... for that to explain, I am afraid, I’ll have to start at a....” He suddenly stopped and took another close, scanning look at her. She shifted in her chair and leaned back, as if to encourage him to start talking and stop scrutinizing her at long last.  


„Do you-uh... Are you likely... to believe in vampires?” He asked finally.  


The question bewildered her for a moment and she looked at him confused. „Why – yes. I do. It’s not a question of faith really...,” she said slowly.  


Good, he thought and interrupted her: „Then it won’t be as hard.”  


„All right,” Helen said reluctantly, wondering, what was about to come.  


„There’s something you need to know about Buffy. She is a vampire slayer.”  


Helen rose her eyebrows, but let him go on, ready to contain every information he would be presenting her with. „She kills vampires and fights all kinds of other demons. Those are, unfortunately, quite frequent here in Sunnydale.”  


_A Slayer!_ Again, she had heard of those a long time ago, but was never really sure whether or not to believe it. Apparently, this was the week of confirmed childhood myths. But who was _he?_ What part was _he_ playing in all this? „When you say a vampire slayer-,” she began to form a question.  


„There is but one. A “ _chosen one_ ” if you like, and Buffy is it. As long as there’ve been the vampires, there’s been the slayer.... And almost that long there’s been her watcher.”  


„A watcher?”  


„A guide, a-a trainer, a tutor, if you will. Someone who is helping her, who prepares her for the fights, provides her with the necessary knowledge about the demons, their particular specific natures, behaviours, their weaknesses and strengths...”  


„Does it have something to do with the Watchers Council?” Helen asked as she remembered something.  


Giles looked at her in surprise. „Yes. There is a Watchers council, their headquarters is in London, it’s a-uhm ... How did you hear about this?”  


„There was a department at the Ministry I had passed a couple of times, years ago, and it said “WC matters”, no one really knew what it meant, so – given the name – everyone was inventing jokes about what kind of research or counselling they could possibly be doing behind a door with that label...,” she noticed his raised eyebrows and decided that this was not the time to try and be witty nor to mention any of those jokes, so she dropped the flippant undertone and continued, „-until someone told me it actually meant a Watchers Council. But I’ve had no idea who or what it meant.”  


He didn’t reply, but was piercing at her, which made her nervous – her hand wandered again to the silk scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. Giles smiled imperceptibly.  


„So-uh, you’re the watcher then?” She asked.  


„Yes. I’ve been Buffy’s watcher since the start of this school year... But hang on. So you’re saying that the Ministry- wait, what Ministry? - has some contact to Watchers Council?”  


„I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about it really. Like I said, there was, a few years ago I saw it last, this small department at the Ministry of magic, an office that was dealing with Council matters, I don’t even know if they’re still operating. Nobody seemed to know much about it, and I have to confess I didn’t attach much notice to it either.... I’d guess they perhaps had some sort of a cooperation, or contact at least, as they had with the muggle Prime Minister, not on a regular basis I’d suppose, but maybe they were exchanging information? I’d have thought you would know better, as one of them.” 

She didn’t mean to, but her words obviously hit some wound point in him, though he was trying to conceal it, but his sarcastic tone was unmistakable: „So would I. But-uh... no. Apparently I wasn’t considered important enough to be entrusted with a knowledge of that kind.” _I am after all nobody but the Watcher of the current Slayer_ , he thought bitterly.  


„Well, you know now,” she said in a voice that was trying to cheer him up a little. He looked at her thankfully.  


„So what happened last week, with the transpossession, is it... common around here?”  


„I-uh... wish I could say no,” Giles said, “but I’m afraid it is. Perhaps not the hyena transpossession, but demons, vampires, all sorts of evil things like revived mummies, or witches.... oh...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please do leave a comment.


	5. Joining the party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thanks for the last comments, really appreciated! I hope not to disappoint with the coming installments :)_
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> _I merged three chapters into one here. Background story is the ep. Teacher's pet, I've tried to not make it too boring, but some quotes from the script were necessary._

Chapter 5  


Joining the party

 

„I didn’t mean...” This was so embarrassing, Giles closed his eyes for a moment and wished himself swallowed up by the Hellmouth itself. 

Yet somehow he found the courage to continue: „I didn’t mean _you_ , you’re-uh... obviously a-a good-uh... witch,” he hurried to reduce the damage, though she was staring at him in surprise rather than in anger. „We had, some weeks ago-uh,... you see, there was this witch that almost killed Buffy. A-and she was evil,” he emphasized the last words. Helen nodded understandingly. „But we – Buffy – destroyed her,” he added reassuringly. 

Helen’s eyes widened at this statement and she thought for a split of a second whether it had really been the right thing having told him so much. They seemed to be “slaying” a lot around here and, perhaps, – so it would appear to a stranger - in a slightly self-righteous-manner? Should she worry?

Giles noticed her concerned expression and evidently he, too, realized how unsettling his words may have sounded. „I’m sorry. It does sound more terrible than it actually is. You must understand that we are fighting demons here on our own, vampires mostly, but also other creatures that are out of the ordinary, or of magic, to-uh prevent them...” Giles didn’t quite know how to finish that sentence without making it worse, he paused. 

„When you said they were frequent here...? How is that?” She asked.

„It has to do with this place,” he began, thankful for the absolution in form of another question, and came yet a little closer to her to lean onto her desk.

„I’ve been researching it since I’d arrived here. This town, Sunnydale, appears to be set on top of the-uh... Hellmouth, it is a centre of mystical convergence, sort of a... a portal between this, our dimension and other hell dimensions, full of demons, hellgods and their alikes. We don’t know a whole lot about it yet, but I suppose it must be radiating a great deal of attraction towards the vampires and demons in this world, so they keep coming here, pulled by its vibrancy only they can feel. Or so I imagine.” 

He suddenly bent forward and looked at her with furrowed eyebrows and asked in a secretive undertone. „Is that why you’re here? Have you been sent here? By your-uh.... your ministry? Did they perhaps send you for the same reason? Surely – given your powers – you’re not here by a coincidence.” 

She laughed unconvincingly. „I am though. Well, not entirely, but... I don’t have much witchcraft left you see.” She turned to the notes on her desk, avoiding his eyes. „I’ve... lost... most of my powers after the Battle of Hogwarts. And I haven’t regained them... yet,” she said in a low voice. It wasn’t quite the truth, but during the past months she managed to believe this self-deception herself, as much as she has been keeping the faith that she would indeed one day recoup her magic.

„No, it’s much simpler actually. I wanted to leave England after that and was unsure where to go. Then I talked to the minister of magic, who’s an old friend of mine, and as I was telling him about my plans for a leave but not knowing where to go, he fetched this list from the bottom of one of his drawers, and asked me _How do you feel about California?_ ” She expected the confused look in Giles’ face, so she went forth. „The Ministry had been keeping, over centuries apparently, records of, well, let’s say significant places all over the world, that are in some way relevant to the wizarding community, or just plain strange, or have a historical value or such, but in a lot of cases the actual, detailed records are gone now, so that there were a few places on that list without any specifics. Anyway, he suggested to me that I take a look at Sunnydale here or... what was the other place he mentioned,” she frowned trying to remember, “ah, something with F... Forks. Yes, Forks, somewhere up in the north. I looked it up and seeing as it was supposed to be the place with the worst and most sunnyless weather, it wasn’t a difficult choice. And that’s how I landed here....,” she finished lightly and smiled. “And now you actually told me why. Whenever this place made its way onto the Ministry's list, it must have had something to do with the-eh... What did you call it again?”

„Hellmouth.” Giles said absentmindedly. 

„Hellmouth, right.”

„Hm.” He stared at her and seemed to be thinking about something. After a moment of silence she looked at her watch and realized that it was already very late. She needed to be at home in an hour at the latest. 

„Oh, Merlin’s beard, it’s... got quite late. When did that happen?” Her voice woke Giles up.

„I am sorry, have I been holding you up?”

„No, not at all, it was-eh... good that we talked, and cleared things up, it certainly gave me a lot to think about. Yet I am afraid I have to go now. I bought a piano last week and it’s to be delivered tonight, so I should get home before it arrives.” She slowly got up to her feet, and started to pack her things.

„Of course. Do you need any help? Should I carry some of your things, walk you to your car?” He asked as he pushed himself up from the desk he was leaning onto, having noticed her not being as fit as usual. 

Normally Helen would politely refuse, but due to the fact that she was still feeling somewhat under the weather – or that was her pretext, as she wouldn’t admit quite yet that she just enjoyed his company and that the thought of him walking alongside of her made her heart do that little hop again – she accepted.

„Thank you, that’s very kind of you. Yes...” She put her books in a bag, her laptop in another and Giles took them both while letting her go ahead. _Always the gentlemen_ , she thought.

„There’s one more thing,” he said as they reached her car at last. „I will have to tell Buffy.” Helen nodded. She found the car key and opened the door at the co-driver side where Giles placed her stuff.

„I know. It’s fine. As long as it stays between the... what ... five of us? And I won’t find it in the morning paper...?” She smiled at him, then saw the question in his eyes. „I won’t tell anyone,” she assured him, then added, rather to herself: „There’s no one to tell.” She came to the driver’s door, which Giles held now open for her. 

„Thank you”, she said finally as she was seated in the car and took a last look at him.

„Good night,” he wished her in a hardly audible voice and with a strange glance on his face, but before she could make out its meaning he had already closed her door and stepped back. He gave a short wave, then turned around and walked back towards the school.

 

Giles told the gang on the next day the facts he got from the new - magical - history teacher and while those haven’t been as surprising to him, they certainly didn’t miss their effect on the Scoobies.

Particularly Xander was having a hard time comprehending these, and by the end of the day he had Giles almost driven mad, when for the 50th time he went on: „I still can’t believe there is such a thing as a Ministry of Magic.” Or a moment later: „A Ministry... of Magic. Wow.” „Did she tell if there’s an army too? And do they have like a president of their own then, or do they accept ... whoever you have in England?”

„That would be the queen,” Giles said through his teeth.

Xander ignored the watcher’s annoyance and continued wondering: „Do you think they would accept me at that wizarding school? I could use some... “

Giles, who was trying to do some important reading, had had it. „Xander!” He snapped, then added in a slightly calmer but still irritated voice: „Go home. Please.”

Christmas came and Helen decided to stay in Sunnydale, to unpack the last couple of her boxes, to get warm with her new piano, to just spend a few relaxing school-free days. She had written some Christmas cards to Harry, George, Ron and Hermione, asking the latter whether she knew some reliable books on vampires and could have those sent to her. Hermione wondered, for for the past two years their relationship had been tense, to say the least. But as she was pleased at the request which showed that her former teacher considered her some sort of an authority when it came to specialist literature, she hurried to send her two volumes she found were most interesting, so that Helen spent the New Year’s Eve and the following couple of days buried among those musty vampire-related pages. Yet after she finished the reading, she felt it had left her filled with more questions than she had before. Both books described vampires rather elaborately, their ways, their strengths, their habits, but nowhere could be found an explanation or a history as to when they had first emerged or why. Nor could she find anything about the Slayer in there, which was odd. So she decided to ask Giles. Perhaps he could let her borrow some of his secret volumes. She smiled at the thought of him.

So upon the first school day of the new year Helen walked into the library, carrying a rather large gift-wrapped book-sized object – a present she wanted to bribe Giles with, so that he would let her read some his own private vampire-books. 

She found him sitting in his office, entirely intent upon some work. She knocked gently at the half-opened door. At least she didn’t scare him. He raised his head from his reading, his eyes unfocused and somewhat blank, apparently his mind was still occupied with the content of the manuscript laying in front of him.

„Hello,” she said, leaning in the door frame. „Happy New Year.” She wasn’t sure whether to enter or not.

He seemed to have come to himself again and stood up. „Oh, uh... thank you, and to you too. Have you-uh... spent a nice holiday?”

„Yes, it was alright I suppose. Quiet and calm. You?” Now she slowly entered the small room.

„Same,” he said and Helen noticed that his eyes looked tired.

„Ehm... I... brought you something. Consider it a... a late Christmas present, if you like.” Somewhat clumsily and with a sheepish glance she offered him the large package. Giles stared in surprise, first at it, then at her, before he took it, not knowing what to say. 

„I thought you might... find it interesting, since you mentioned you’ve heard tales of Hogwarts before.” His eyes widened when he looked at her again, still speechless. For not knowing what else to do or say he slowly started to unwrap it.

„I am sorry, I-I-uh... don’t have anything in return,” he said in a perplexed voice, now looking at the cover of an old edition of _Hogwarts. A history. By Bathilda Bagshot._

„There’s of course been a new edition that came out last year, but I like this one better. All the bad stuff hadn’t happened there yet.” 

Giles kept looking from the cover to Helen and back, while carefully, almost reverently stroking the golden letters of the title. 

„I don’t know what to say,” he said and there was again this warm glow in eyes that always seemed to have a peculiar effect on Helen’s stomach.

„I am sorry, I didn’t want to put you in an awkward position or anything,” she said and blushed and her fingers jumped up to her green neckerchief, “and... I must confess that the intention wasn’t quite selfless.” He raised his eyebrows suspiciously. 

„I’ve been reading up on vampires over the holiday in some volumes I could get from a friend, but it didn’t quite answer all my questions,” she said and came even closer now to lean onto _his_ desk for a change. „I was wondering whether you would perhaps lend me some of yours. That is – if you don’t mind.” 

A brief sign of amusement appeared on his face before he asked: „But of course. What would you like to know?” He motioned her to follow him into the library. „You see, by now I’ve come to own dozens, if not hundreds of accounts on vampires, from the earliest time right up to some recent works, mostly syntheses written by elder members of the council, most of them are rubbish I'm not afraid to say, but there are one or two that stand out.”

He walked towards the metal cage in the library and opened one of the cupboards there, then looked at her with expectation. 

„Oh, right, I-eh... well, I read a lot about their appearance, their “life-style” and their ways and that kind, but I'm still not clear on the origins, on who created them, how they came to live _here_ , when you say there are other, hell dimensions full of demons. You see I’d like to be able to grasp what you might call “the big picture”, so-eh... I guess I’m looking for reading something that would help put the vampires into perspective within the whole demon world? Compare them to other creatures you had mentioned the other day?” 

Giles stared at her for a second with almost dreamy eyes. If only Buffy, his slayer would ever display half of such eager interest to learn things from books... He then briefly tipped a finger on his lips to think for a moment which books would provide Helen with the most accurate information. At last, he picked four rather old looking volumes, two on vampires, and two on the demons and dimensions in general, and handed them to her. „Here. These might answer at least a good part of your questions.” 

Helen thanked him and after a quick look at her watch realized that she already was late for one of her history classes. „Thank you so much again, I’ll have them brought back in a few days. Have to go,” she smiled one last time, then hurried out of the library.

Later that day Giles was sitting at the large table of his library, reading the Hogwarts History, his excitement growing with every page. Buffy came in for a training session and found him in this exalted mood, so opposite to her own – after a math exam. 

„Hi,” she murmured, or perhaps barked would be a better word, and threw her bag carelessly at the table next to her Watcher. 

Giles looked up at her, his face shining. „I’ve got a new book!” 

Buffy glanced at him, shook her head, then rolled her eyes, as she threw herself into the chair opposite to him. „Oh good. ‘cos god knows you don’t have enough of those,” she said in a sarcastic tone.

Giles was so eager to finish the chapter about student riots at Hogwarts in the late 1500s that he even omitted her remark. When he raised his eyes at her finally, she was looking at him, very annoyed.

„What is it now?” He asked in this patient, parenting voice.

„Grrh, nothing.” Buffy sighed.

Giles glared at her. „Clearly it’s something. You don’t want to train today? Because that would be fine with me...” He gave the book in front of him a stolen longing glance. „We could postpone the cross bow training, if you want.” 

„No,” she said rather absentmindedly. „It’s not that.” She paused, then leaned abruptly towards Giles. „Do you think that I have a first-rate mind?”

Giles stared, opened his mouth and moved his lips, but unsure of what to say, closed it again, and kept looking at her confused, shaking his head slightly to indicate that he did not understand the question. And that he would rather avoid an answer.

She slumped back into her chair, sighing again. „Mr. Gregory told me he expects great things from me, ‘cos _I have a first rate mind_.” She frowned, then jumped up, suddenly eager to train so she could push those thoughts aside. Beating something up, even a wooden puppet usually worked too. „Let’s get the cross bow and train!” And off she ran towards the cage where Giles kept the weapons. Unwillingly, he closed the book, the lecture would have to wait.

The next day, after having heard the terrible news of the founding of Dr. Gregory’s, a biology colleague, headless body in the canteen, Helen hesitantly decided to go to the library and see Giles, since she assumed he might have an idea what was going on.

When she entered the library hall she found all four of them seated around the large table in the middle, talking. As they noticed her, Giles stood up and walked towards her. „Miss McGregor.” He said expecting for her to say something.

„Mr. Giles?” She came closer, looked at the three teenagers, then turned back at Giles and came to a halt in front of him. „I heard about Dr. Gregory,” she said in a sombre voice.

Giles merely nodded. „Yes. It’s-uh... terrible. They are still a little shaken,” he motioned with this head towards the three kids, “the three of them found the body in the cafeteria.” 

„Oh.” Helen said, her eyes just widened in terror as she imagined what it must have been like. Together they walked slowly towards the table. The Scoobies raised their heads as Helen asked: „Was it vampires?” 

„We-eh ... don’t know yet. Apparently there is a new vampire in town, according to Buffy’s friend he seems to be particularly vicious.” Giles began to explain.

„Yeah,” Buffy stood up, rubbed her still a little wet eyes. It took her aback that the only teacher who seemed to hold her in high esteem should find such a horrible fate „We assume he has forks instead of hands or something.”

„But we can’t be sure whether it was him who killed Dr. Gregory,” Giles said cautiously.

„But I’m going to find out.” Buffy sounded determined. 

Now Giles turned to her, saying: „Buffy, I know you are upset, but this is no time to go hunting. Not until we know more. Please promise me you won’t do anything rush.” Buffy put on the most innocent look she could master, then sat back down on her chair, saying obediently, „cross my heart.”

Giles glanced at her in suspicion and wanted to say something further, but Xander, turning now at Helen, interrupted him. „So, you’re a witch then.”

She smiled rather bashfully and raised her eyebrows, somewhat surprised at this change of topic, and answered. „Yes.” 

„Cool. Of course we know a lot about witches. Just a few weeks ago there was Amy’s mom....” He stopped abruptly, when he noticed Giles, who was standing behind Helen, shaking his head frantically, saying soundless _No_ s and closing his eyes in pain over the boy’s verbal clumsiness. 

„Yes,” she turned around at Giles. „Mr. Giles mentioned the-ah... incident.”

„Well, Amy’s mother wasn’t a wand-witch, she was a-a... different-uh kind of witch....,” Giles said, hurrying to set the record straight.

„Really?” Xander asked, clearly intrigued by the topic. „So are there more of your kind here?” And he looked over her head at Giles: „Or is that once again one of those exclusive British things?” There was a faint trace of irony and even jealousy in his voice which made the corners of Helen’s mouth twitch a little into a smile. 

„By no means. I don’t know about... well, Sunnydale. But there are wizarding communities in the north – somewhere in the northwest of Canada, around the Great Slave Lake. And then in Texas of course. Near Fort Worth. And there is also a large community in Mexico. Very nice people, quite different to us though, we’ve visited couple of years ago...”

„Who’s we?” Xander asked. 

The question took her by surprise. She didn’t even realise she said the _we_. She didn’t know why she looked at Giles for a split of a second, then quickly averted her eyes and turned back at Xander, and said in the most casual tone she could manage: „My husband and me.”

„A-ha!” Xander cried out triumphantly, suddenly turning to Willow. „That’s one free homework you owe me, Will.” The rest of them, Giles, Buffy and Helen, stared at the two in confusion.

„We bet,” Xander went to explain. “I tried to persuade Willow there was no way someone like you ain’t married.” Helen glanced at Willow in some sort of an amused disbelief, the girl gave her an apologetic look. Then she raised her head to face Xander, and said: „I am sorry then, Xander, you lost.” She began to walk slowly away from him towards one of the chairs at the end of the table.

„What?” He asked bewildered.

She came to a halt, her hands on the chair’s back. 

„I’m not married.” She said in a clear voice. 

„But- you just said..”

„I am a widow. Twice.”

There was silence, everyone’s eyes were directed at the young woman, her own fixed at the seat in front of her. 

Finally, Giles was the first to speak as he saw Xander’s mouth open to say something, and – afraid that the boy might once again say something completely misplaced – he said quietly: „Xander, there are no jokes that would be appropriate.” 

Helen looked up to see Xander’s mouth shut again. 

„Well, I guess you could always take Wilde and twist him into something like _To lose one husband may be a misfortune, to lose another seems like carelessness..._ ,” she said it more to herself while she watched absentmindedly a fly pacing jerkily across the table. They all stared at her in a mild shock, Buffy raised her eyebrows. 

When Helen raised her head, she noticed their horrified expressions. „I’m sorry,” she shook her head, feeling somewhat embarrassed, “I-ah... don’t know why I said that.” _Maybe because it seems so accurate_ , her inner voice said ironically. “Anyway,” she took a deep breath, “I hope you didn’t bet for anything valuable, Xander...” Then she suddenly raised her hands in front of her in a defensive way, desperately wanting out of this conversation: „Let’s-eh... let’s change the subject, shall we? I really just came to ask whether there is anything I could do, to help.” 

Giles was still looking at her, puzzled, and couldn’t help but somehow feel very sorry for her. She was so young and must have already been through terrible things, and without ever having lived on Hellmouth... Was that perhaps the reason for her escape from England? But then, he told himself, he knew nothing of it and it was her private business.

Willow asked her tentatively: „Are you sure you want to be part of this? It might be dangerous. And not exactly pleasant. You see Sunnydale has a record mortality rate for a reason.” 

And while Helen was talking to the red haired girl, assuring her that she would be glad to assist them in any way she could, any way they would let her, having experiences with both the dangerous and the unpleasant herself, Buffy walked over to where her watcher and Xander were still standing speechless, and asked Giles in a low voice so that Willow and Helen wouldn’t hear: „Are we sure _we_ want her to be a part of this?”

Giles looked at her, but didn’t answer. 

„I mean it is already tough to keep the four of us safe, and now you brought her-”

„I didn’t-,” Giles protested, but when his irritated voice made Willow turn around, he paused before saying in a half whisper. “She’s a witch, Buffy. She might be of some use to us.”

„But you said she had no magic left,” Buffy argued, still not convinced that it was a good idea to involve the strange teacher in their dealings.

„I didn’t say that. You weren’t paying attention – again. I said she didn’t have _much_ of her magic left and that she is regaining her powers,” he replied, the image of Helen's poor appearance Helen on the evening they talked about their “secret identities” came into his mind, of how worn out she seemed to be by the few spells she had performed, and doubts came to him whether it really was a good thing, good thing for her, to get involved.

„I agree with Giles on this.” They both, Giles and Buffy, turned at Xander in surprise. „She could have some invaluable knowledge we could use, even if she can’t conjure around that much. We should keep her. You never know.”

Giles looked at him slightly appalled that he should speak of her as of some kind of a pet or a stray cat they just found, but Buffy gave him an amused glare: „You’re just hoping you can get into that magic-school through her,” she whispered.

Xander grinned back at her. „Still, I think we’ve pretty much outvoted you, Buff.”

It was agreed then that they would let her in or at least would not try to get rid of her, if she wanted to help. Yet they all couldn’t do much for the present, until they knew more. Giles sent them all home for now and decided to do some preliminary research on the “fork-guy” himself, although he had the feeling that there was more behind the murder than an ordinary vampire.

When Buffy stormed into the library the next morning, she found Giles in a talk with Ms. McGregor. They were sitting at the front table, drinking tea, large books spread in front of them.

„It would help if we at least knew what that claw vampire looks like,” Helen said.

„I know what he looks like,” Buffy interrupted, walking towards them. „I had the pleasure last night.”

Giles raised his head and frowned. „You were hunting last night? When you assured me you wouldn’t?” He asked poignantly. 

„Yes, I lied, I’m a bad person. Let’s move on,” Buffy answered impatiently, rolling her eyes.

„Did you see someone with a fork?” Giles stood up, knowing better than to argue with her when she had something urgent on her mind.

„More like a jumbo claw.”

Giles and Helen exchanged concerned looks.

„Well, at least you’re not hurt.” 

Buffy ignored the remark as she was obviously eager to get to some other point in her story.

„And I saw something else. Something much more interesting than your average run-of-the-mill killer vampire.”

„Oh?” Giles raised his brows.

„You know Miss French? The teacher that’s subbing for Dr. Gregory?”

A short dreamy smile appeared on Giles’ face. „Yes, yes. She’s lovely.” Both women glanced at him, Buffy in disbelief, Helen with an indistinct hint of jealousy, a feeling she remembered only very remotely. He quickly turned away and frantically began to clean his glasses. „In a common, extremely well proportioned way.”

„Well,” Buffy went on, “I’m chasing Claw Guy last night and Miss Well-Proportioned is heading home. The Claw Guy takes one look at her and runs screaming for cover.”

This was all very disturbing news. Yet what Buffy had to report in the afternoon was even more alarming and it confirmed their decision to keep a close eye on the substitute teacher.

„She turned her neck 180 degrees?” Giles asked.

„Yesss.”

„Nothing human can do that.”

„No, nothing human. There are some insects that can. Whatever she is, I’m gonna be ready for her.”

„What are you going to do?”

„My homework.” And Buffy stormed off to the back of the library to search for some books on insects.

Giles walked with an open book in his hands over to where Helen had been sitting, still trying to find something on the “Claw Guy”, only now she looked deepened in thoughts. He watched her for a moment before asking: „Does that sound familiar to you?”

She came out of her thoughts and only slowly turned her focus back to him. „No, no. Not really. I wonder though...,” her voice trailed off.

„About what?”

„Well, whether she could be an... animagus...”

„Animagus? You mean a shape-shifter?” 

„Yes.” She smiled. „I see you did the reading.” The Hogwarts History book she had given him mentioned on its over thousand pages several famous animagi among the former teachers and students of the school, the footnotes would have explained to Giles how the shapeshifting in the wizardings world worked.

„But if I understand it correctly if she was an animagus, she still couldn’t turn her neck around in that way, could she?”

„No, I suppose not. I haven’t heard of anyone who would possess any of the features or abilities of the animal in their human form as well....”

„And also, if the assumption was right, as animagus she would be rather small, average insect-sized, this one, however, looks like it might be... about three or four hundred times larger, judging by the size of the teeth,” Giles said looking yet again at the unappetising pictures from the autopsy of Dr. Gregory.

„You’re right,” she sighed resignedly, then turned back to her book. 

Giles took the seat opposite to her and continued his own reading.

Buffy soon returned and reassured them that they were indeed dealing with a giant praying mantis. And although they were all still rather hesitant in believing that Xander should have fallen for a giant bug, after Giles had called his former friend from Oxford who confirmed the existence of such a creature – and being himself its victim and living in a mental home, bound in a straitjacket – they, Willow especially, were very near to panic. 

When they finally compared the teeth marks from the autopsy pictures with those of a praying mantis – both being identical in form, differing only in their size – and when Willow called Xander’s home and had been told by his mother that he was gone doing a project at his teacher’s house, they knew they had to act fast. 

Buffy was trying to keep cool while giving orders: “Willow, see if you can get Miss French’s address off the substitute rolls. Giles, get to the vid library and get a record of a bat sonar. I’ll handle the armory.”

On her way to the cage Buffy finally took notice of the history teacher and came to an abrupt halt. Helen was looking at her, unsure of whether to say something or to just wait for her orders.

“Right, you’re.. here... too,” Buffy said with a tensed, distracted smile. 

Helen looked at her and tried to smile back. “Yes. I-ah ... I’d like to help – if there’s something I could do..., but I don’t want to be in anyone’s way either...”

“Eeh-... I don’t know. Maybe... why don’t you just stay here in case Xander or someone would call, or come, while we go find and – hopefully – slice Miss French-Mantis?” Buffy felt uncomfortable. She knew this must have sounded like she didn’t want her around – which was only partially true. But she thought that this was no time for schooling someone new into their “club”, especially someone she for once didn’t know at all, didn’t know her ways, her strengths and weaknesses, her reactions and reflexes or how much she could withstand, how she would do under pressure, and Buffy still wasn’t sure how much or whether at all they could trust her and rely upon her. She decided to test all that on another occasion, not when one of her best friends seemed to be in mortal danger.

Helen nodded. “All right. I’ll-eh... stay here then.” She felt a little excluded on one hand, yet on the other she also could understand Buffy wanting her out of the way instead of getting involved too much too fast. After all, in the group of the five of them the two women knew least of each other – they haven’t even really spoken to each other properly, with Buffy being in Mr. Pescoe’s history class and not Helen’s. So Helen accepted the “task” to stay behind without any questions, especially after Giles also agreed that it would be best if she held her position in the library – just in case.

So Willow, Buffy and Giles left and Helen stayed alone, with large piles of books laying on the table. Well, I guess the work is done, she thought. They had cleared the identity of Miss French, so there was nothing left for her to research on the matter.

Not really knowing what to do – she didn’t really believe Xander would call, since he was probably tied up somewhere, hopefully not yet eaten by the She-Mantis – she started to clear away all the books. After maybe twenty minutes she was finished and getting more nervous. She made herself a pot of earl grey she found in Giles’ office and drank a first cup. For a moment she was thinking of starting some of her own work like preparing lessons for the coming few days, but then, she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate anyway. She started pacing up and down the library with a tea cup in one hand, the other hand crumpling nervously her neckerchief. 

Her mind began to wander, first around the events of that day, then sinking further back into the past few weeks, but somehow constantly revolving around the one person, the tall tweedy librarian. She looked around almost expecting to see him behind his counter or in the cage sorting books, sitting at one of the tables, frowning over his reading or just standing and cleaning his glasses. At the same time and with a short longing sigh she thought that the library felt strangely unfamiliar, almost surreal without him being there, as if it was an entirely different place all of a sudden. Yes, she missed him there. No, she missed him. _No! No such thing, I’m only worried about them, all of them. All four of them. That’s all._ She started an argument with her inner voice as it became quite impertinent, suggesting that she might be taking more than just a casual interest in the librarian, thinking stubbornly: _Yes, well, maybe I like him, so what? He’s... he’s a .... he’s a kind person, a constant proof that the species of a gentleman has not become extinct just yet... which is a pleasant discovery..._ He seemed to be very dedicated to his work too, and to care a lot about the three children. The way he looked at them – at Xander with some kind of resignation, of giving up and simply accepting his many deficiencies and oddities, his possible caring for the boy carefully covered up with a proper portion of annoyance; at Willow with admiration and respect, yet also with confusion, as if he couldn’t always get her, and at Buffy - sometimes with similar incomprehension of her ways, sometimes irritated by her not taking her duties seriously enough, but also with sort of a fatherly fondness, when he seemed to worry about her... 

And then she liked how mysterious he appeared to be, it kept attracting her. She liked his calmness, his somewhat shy, reserved, quiet ways, for in her experience the quiet ones were the most interesting people – the more quiet on the outside, the more they actually had to tell.

There was a difference in the way they both were approaching each other. Giles subconsciously chose what one might call a “rational” way – by asking himself many questions considering her being there, her purpose, her goals, when he thought about her. He wanted to learn about her, to find things out, to get to know her through establishing some general, practical facts first. Who was she? Where did she come from? Where did her loyalties lie? What was she doing before? How did she lose her magic? How could she still use her magic? How much did she know about demons and how would she be able to deal with them? Would she scream and melt down if she saw a Lagos-demon or would she fight it no matter what? 

Helen took just as subconsciously as him a different path. She always made an emotional or even sensual approach first, based on the sentiments, the feelings and her instincts, which had rarely failed her in the past. She used to bond and she was learning to know others relying on her senses, how she felt around him – how he made her feel, what kind of impression he made. She would watch his ways and manners, his movements, listen to how he spoke, how his voice would sound in her ears in different situations, how he would talk to each of the three kids, how he talked to her, she would look out for how his touch felt, when their hands would accidentally brush each other, and watch how he touched the books, how warm his smile could be, how it changed his features almost into those of a boy, how he smiled in the mornings when she entered the library and how in the afternoons when she was saying goodbye, these were the things she would ingest first rather than his “profession” or his actual occupation.

So contemplating over him in this manner, she was still pacing the library up and down, when perhaps two hours later, around ten, Giles returned at last. She turned around as she heard the footsteps and hurried towards him, feeling a sudden urge to embrace him. But she didn’t. They met in the middle of the hall, standing opposite to each other, her eyes widened, full with questions of worry, while his face looked tired, but otherwise relaxed, one hand in his pocket, the other holding casually his coat over his shoulder.

“It’s done,” he said in a calm and reassuring voice, making clear that there was nothing left to worry about.

“Did you... is it dead?” She asked.

“Yes. Buffy killed it, Xander destroyed the offsprings.”

“Is he alright then?”

“Yes. They were both, he and the other boy, unharmed. Though it was a serious blow to their-uh... manhood....” Giles smiled, recalling the reactions of Xander and Blayne when they told them that the Mantis was only interested in virgins.

Helen blushed a little, then turned around and pointed towards the table. “I made tea earlier, would you perhaps like to drink a cup with me and tell me about the rest?”

Giles looked at the table, and she saw he eyes lighten up just a little before he said: “Oh, that sounds lovely.” He disappeared for a moment in his office to put away his coat and get himself a cup.

When he returned, they both sat down at the large table, and he told her about the events of the night from the point they had left the library, how they went looking for Miss French’s house, how the address was wrong and how Miss French actually was a completely different person, how they finally found, with the involuntary help of the Claw-Vampire, the right housing of the beast, up to the point when Buffy finally sliced it and Xander smashed its eggs.

“Merlin’s scarf, that must have been some sight,” Helen said amazed, not quite sure whether she wished to have been there and seen it all or whether she was rather glad to have been left behind. Giles caught her thoughtful look.

“Please, do not blame-uh... Buffy, because she didn’t want you to come. She is careful, when it comes to civilians. Which is good and-uh... I would encourage it in any case. A slayer usually works alone, you see, merely under the guidance of her watcher.” He justified Buffy’s decision. “It was rather a coincidence that caused the two being involved – in case of Willow I’d say a very happy, useful and enriching one, in case of Xander... well-uh, let’s-uh... be silent at this point...,” he gave her a meaningful look which she understood completely. “Buffy saved them from a couple of vampires upon her first school day,” he added, “and they have been helping since.”

She nodded and took a sip of her tea cup. “No, I understand that. Besides, she doesn’t know me, I guess it’s only natural to have some reservations, especially when she has to do... eh-what she has to do...” She frowned a little, still not entirely clear on what exactly Buffy’s “work” around here included. 

“Yes, well, on the other hand – as I tried to point out to her – we are glad for your assistance. After all how often does it happen that a Slayer could rely on a help of a real witch?” He said again with this sheepish smile that made her stomach jump just a little bit. She hardly heard what he said. Then his face turned more serious.

“I-eh, I’ve been meaning to ask you – you haven’t told anyone about us?” 

For a second Helen looked confused. _Us? There is an_ us _? Already? When did that happen? Not that I’m complaining... Stop it!_

“About Buffy being a slayer, and the others?” He added when she wasn’t replying.

 _Oh, the other us._

“You didn’t mention any of it to someone of... your people? Or your Ministry...”

“Oh. No, to no one,” she assured him.

He looked relieved, but something was still occupying him.

“The thing with the council’s office at the Ministry is still bothering you, isn’t it?” He didn’t need to answer, she could tell from his look that it was so. “Well, they might not be active anymore, maybe their contacts go back in times long before you took the job from them... I mean, you’ve been working as a watcher only for a couple of months, maybe their dealings with the Ministry ceased long before that...” She was trying to cheer him up, to persuade him that it might not be important at all.

He shook his head slightly. “I’ve been part of the council for much longer... You see, being a watcher is not one of those... “jobs” one would apply for, it’s a... a destiny, a fate, for which one is designed a long time before one actually gets to act as such and long before one is assigned a slayer to train...,” he began to explain, to at least outline to her the nature of his position, glad he could leave the subject of the council behind. For now.

“Oh.” She was tempted to ask him, why he, when it obviously bothered him so much, didn’t just call this council chaps and demand a direct statement about their relationship with the wizarding world, but she thought better of it and decided not to. He must have had his reasons, surely otherwise he would long have done so. “So are you also a “chosen one” then? Like Buffy?” She asked, attempting a lighter tone.

He laughed a little. “Not quite. But, I, too, had been told about my-uh... destiny,” he said the last word in a rather bitter tone, almost in contempt, “when I was a child. I was no more than ten years old. And from then on I had been preparing for the future task.” He raised his eyes from his tea to meet hers, which right now were peering at him with an eagerness that he hadn’t seen in them before.

They were both silent for a moment, Helen thought about what he just said, and tried to imagine a little boy in a little tweed suit, with large glasses and an earnest, far too mature expression on his face, sitting at a table in an intimidating giant library of some old English mansion, surrounded by huge towers of old, dusty books, reading Latin texts on vampires and slayers. Though the image seemed so believable, she was still wondering...  
“Have you never wanted to do something else? To abandon your calling and to cease being a watcher? Never longed for another occupation? Being just... a librarian for instance?” Her tongue was faster than her mind when she blurted out all those question although it usually was one of her ground principles not to pry. She couldn’t help herself: this was far too interesting a topic.

He smiled into his teacup as if remembering fondly something old. “Oh, I didn’t want to become a watcher in the first place. I had very clear ideas about my future at the age of ten.” He then looked at her with all earnestness. “I would become a fighter pilot.” 

Within fractions of a second Helen saw in her head yet another image, of a nowadays-Giles, in his large tweed suit, with glasses, a tensed expression on his face, sitting in a cockpit, frowning at an instruction manual of some fighter aircraft, swearing _Bloody_ s and _Dear lord_ s over the gibberish text of it which was written in some odd code language that wasn’t Latin. 

“But, there was no other way for me to go. As I should learn many years later yet again, this was what I was supposed to be doing,” he paused briefly as if he wanted to say more, but then merely added, “I don’t question it anymore.” 

The memories of his wild days as the Ripper sprung into his mind. Untamed parties with his “friends”, where they practised magic, summoned some invidious demons and played them off against each other, or worse, commanded them to haunt some innocent unsuspecting humans, just so they’d have a little fun or simply kill off a boring time, until one day... He frowned slightly. He had been suppressing these recollections for over twenty years now, and though it had been hard work, he did so quite successfully. He was an entirely different person now, or so he hoped, trying not to think about whether there still may be some little part of the Ripper deep in him somewhere, not active, but dormant and possible to awake when some invisible trigger would be pulled... Yet he hoped he would never have to deal with that part of his past again. 

He shook the memories off with a brief shrug. “I’ve accepted it, as had my father before me and my grandmother before him, and-uh... yes, it is in its way a fulfilling job – I don’t see it that way anymore, it’s just what I do, who I am. Though we hardly ever experience any gratitude from anyone, still, we are...,” he paused again. The words _We are making the world a better place_ seemed effusive to him, and exaggerated, not to mention rather corny, besides, he wasn’t sure he believed that really. “Let’s-uh... say we are reducing the-uh... amount of the evil in our dimension,” he finished the sentence, glaring now into his empty cup. 

Again she was nodding slowly, looking at him, finding him more and more fascinating with every word he said.

“Have _you?_ ” He asked suddenly, with a gentle, curious smile on his face.

She didn’t understand. “Have I what?”

“Ever wished not to be a witch? To be a.... what’s the word you use... “ He rubbed his forehead to remember, “... a muggle? To not have your magic?” He asked in his velvet voice.

Helen blushed. She would never have dreamed that her interrogation could backfire in this way. She looked at her hands that were holding her half full tea cup on her lap. She felt cold sweat seizing her.

“No”, she lied in a voice so calm that it surprised her, then defiantly raised her eyes to meet his.

Giles wrinkled his forehead a little. He had noticed how she stiffened at his question and it confused him.

She looked at her watch and stood up, smiling nervously. “Oh, it’s-eh.... very late. I think I’ll better get going home.”

He looked somewhat perturbed, but then said: “Yes, it’s been a long day.”

“Yes.” She said and avoided his eyes, and began to collect their teacups, while Giles packed his things. Couple of minutes later they left the library together. She didn’t say another word to him and he had the feeling that something changed between them. Unlike all those times before, this new silence was... uncomfortable and awkward, like an invisible thread between them that was waiting to be cut to set them free, and apart.

In front of the school Helen came to a halt. “So, eh, I’ll walk from here. Have a nice evening,” she threw him a quick look, just long enough to be polite, but nothing more, and turned around to leave. 

“Walk?” He asked in concern. “A-Are you sure? It’s rather late, and...”

She smiled at the pavement. “Surely after tonight it’s safe enough. That vampire, and the Mantis gone...”

“W-well, it might be safer,” he admitted, “but-but Sunnydale at night is very far from safe... I could drive you home, my car is over there.” He pointed with this head towards the parking lot some yards in the distance.

She shook her head in decline and was about to turn her back to him again and to leave.

“Wait!” He said, and wanted to protest once more, to insist at least to accompany her, but when she turned her face to him again, something her expression, about the look in her big dark eyes made him drop the effort. He didn’t want to be too obtrusive, and she seemed anxious to leave. He just hoped that no vampire would sweep the streets tonight. After all, Giles didn’t know whether her magic would be strong enough to fight them. In resignation he finally wished her “Good night then,” and then for a moment watched her walking away before he went to his car and drove home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you for reading, and as always - do leave a comment, critique, suggestion, whatever you feel like pointing out._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. The following chapters should be longer. Since I have already written the whole story and am now going over it again and merely re-reading and changing a few things, I do hope to post regularly.  
> Please, if you feel like it, leave a comment, on anything really.


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